What should I do with Peanut Butter?
by nedfan
Summary: Bobby and Myles are camping out when an unforseen calamity has Bobby proposing the unthinkable.


**

* * *

**

A/N: Here's a fun short story. Someone threatened me into writing this story (ILY AM); off-the-cuff with following restrictions:

**Not more than three team-members and it must include the following words: _Resort, Peanut Butter, Business Card_. I wrecked my brain for half-a-day-or-so and ended up with this.**

_

* * *

_

* * *

**What should I do with Peanut Butter?**

* * *

oOo

_

* * *

_

_Oh, splendid, just what I need_, he thought as he rummaged through the drawers of the only bathroom cabinet in the Spartan-furnished room.

What had seemed a good idea at first had become an ongoing test of his nerves.

In the trail of gang of money counterfeiters their undercover mission had taken Myles and Bobby to the unlikely, 'rustique' area of Summersville, West-Virginia. There, in the mountains, amidst pine-tree rimmed slopes and the crystal clear Muddlety Creek that streamed through Nicholas County, they were able to catch up with the perpetrators and make a successful end to their printing scams.

Though they were only a few miles down Route 19 it felt like the end of the world. Nearby Monongahela National Forest loomed, and since the chase had ended successfully, both Myles and Bobby decided a few more days in the vicinity would be relaxing. Well, it had _begun_ relaxing.

'Sort of feels like this is the last resort for uptight City dwellers like us, innit mate? Kinda like the Lucky Country, but less arid', Bobby said when they toured round to look for a nice place to stay.

'Luckily, civilization has gained a stronger foothold here', commented Myles as he glanced at his partner.

'Meaning?'

'A little pedigree research will provide you with the necessary insight, Koala Boy.'

'Not everyone had kangaroos loose in the top paddock, mate. Just like the Founding Fathers weren't all Ockers.'

* * *

oOo

* * *

They had found a cabin near Hills Creek Falls. Well, truthfully; during the bust when they had to find a shelter for the night, as well as an observation point to watch the Counterfeit Gang at work, a local Cabin Rental entrepreneur had given them his Business Card. 'Might as well stay here, Folks. Take a break and enjoy good West Virginian hospitality'.

A local had put them on their way to the Summersville Creek Side Resort, and within minutes they had a deal. And a cabin. Somewhat scarcely furnished, but what it lacked for furniture, it made up with the breathtaking scenery, the quiet surroundings, and the soothing way the water rushed down the Falls. It was serene.

Well, at least the scenery was.

Myles found out, camping out with Bobby meant the Aussie sprang back into 'Outback Mode' more rapid than the rafters could sail down Muddlety Creek. He had managed to talk him out of bare-hand fishing down the foot of the Falls, and instead of 'poking up the old barbie' their dinner had been in a downtown Summersville steak-house.

What he couldn't have prevented was his desire to watch 'a bit of the Bush Telly', which meant Bobby had started to create an immense camp fire, that made the 1988 Yellowstone fires seem small.

There were other things too, but not wanting to be the uptight nitpicker everyone thought him to be, Myles decided to make the best of it. And Bobby wasn't that unpleasant as a companion, just unorthodox.

_Very_ unorthodox.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Myles gave up his efforts to find any shaving cream. He stepped out of the bathroom.

'Bobby!'

'Out here, mate', he responded.

'Where's the shaving cream?'

'In the bathroom, next to the razor. Why?'

Myles appeared in the doorway to the kitchen where Bobby was having a bit of an early lunch.

'Well, it's not. How am I supposed to shave without it?'

'Sure you checked it all right?'

'I'm with Surveillance in the FBI, I can find anything, besides, the possibilities of where said cream could be are somewhat meager.'

'Then don't shave.' Myles' face wrinkled. 'To you, being outside in the bush means stepping back a few thousand years in the evolution of mankind, whereas I favor to maintain at least a _bit_ of civilization.'

'Last of the Mohicans, eh?'

'More like common sense's last resort.'

'Yeah, well, come to think of it, I think I used the last of it this morning.'

'What, the cream of common sense?' Bobby took a bite of his sandwich, rolling his eyes.

'Great, and you never bothered to get some new, let alone inform me?'

'Must've slipped my mind, mate. But no worries, there's something you could use instead.'

This, together with the 'mental state' of the Aussie during the previous days, should have had him in 'DEFCON 1', but instead Myles asked: 'And what would that be?'

The Aussie began to grin. 'Right here, mate.' Myles looked round, but couldn't figure out what Bobby was referring to.

'Right where?'

Bobby gestured at the table. 'In between the tucker.' Myles looked at the Aussie, confused.

'Yeah, anyway. It's an old Bush trick. Might seem odd, but the result will be apples.'

'Am I going to like it?', Myles said, suspiciously glancing at Bobby.

'Do you like Peanut Butter?'

'Come again?'

'Do you like peanut butter?'

'What does my like or dislike of peanut butter even _remotely_ have in common with my desire to shave?' Bobby picked up the jar of Jif's. 'It's got everything to do with it, mate.'

* * *

oOo

* * *

Then something clicked inside Myles' brain, putting together the circumstances, the person and his unusual view of the world. Myles' eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

'You are not suggesting that I...No way, there's no way...'

'Never said it was common practice, but a man's got to do what a man's got to do.'

'I thought I had seen a fair amount of Mad Max already, but this is way off the scale...' Myles shook his head ruefully.

'It's the best alternative. A mate of mine swears it's better than Gilette. Smooth, holds the hairs nicely, and furthermore: you won't get sick eating it.' He laughed a bellowing laugh as he watched Myles' shocked expression. 'Oh, the look on your face, priceless...'

'This has got to be one of your Outback myths.'

'No way, there's proof. Didn't you see this episode of this British TV show called 'Brainiac'? There they tested it, and it worked like a charm.'

Myles had started to retreat from the kitchen, backing away from Bobby who was immensely amusing himself. 'I think it will be in our best interest if we went separate ways from now on, Koala Boy.'

'You sure you don't want to shave?'

'I think not shaving is one of the least of my problems now, outnumbered by my worries about your mental state.' Myles picked up his wallet, as Bobby sat watching.

'Ah, you're not leaving are you, mate?'

'No, but I am going to hand over a befriend Psychologist's Business Card. I'm sure he has room for you. Come to think of it, he even has a counseling program for treating Arachibutyrophobia.'

Bobby's grin faded and his face turned confused. 'And in normal English?'

'Since when do you use 'normal' English?', Myles quipped. 'When you have Arachibutyrophobia, you're afraid of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. Albeit I don't know he has to treat _that_, I'm sure that within this interesting medical field, there should be something that could prove beneficiary to you.' He handed over the card to Bobby, making sure he kept a safe distance.

'Might want to call him when you're back from Never Never Land.' And with a huge smile on his face, he walked out, leaving behind a baffled Bobby.

**

* * *

La Fin**


End file.
